"The Passing of Peg-Leg" and "A Question of Possession" appeared
originally in _Leslie's Monthly_, and are here reprinted by permission
of the publishers of that magazine.

BRANDS

[Illustration:] Bar X bar.

[Illustration:] Ohio.

[Illustration:] Barb wire.

[Illustration:] Hat.

[Illustration:] Apple.

[Illustration:] Diamond tail.

[Illustration:] Iowa.

[Illustration:] Johnson & Hosmer

[Illustration:] United States.[1]

[Illustration:] "Sold."[1]

[Illustration:] Dead tree.

[Illustration:] Tin cup.

[Illustration:] Snake.

[Illustration:] Bar Z bar.

[Illustration:] Running W.

[Illustration:] Three circle.

[Illustration:] Two bars.

[Illustration:] Broken arrow.

[Illustration:] Four D.

[Illustration:] Turkey track.

[Illustration:] Owned by "Barbecue" Campbell.

[Illustration:] L.X.

[Illustration:] "Inspected and condemned."[1]

[Illustration:] Spade.

[Illustration:] Flower pot.

[Illustration:] Frying pan.

[Illustration:] Laurel leaf.

[Illustration:] X bar two.

[Footnote 1: These three belong to the United States Government.]

CATTLE BRANDS

I

DRIFTING NORTH

It was a wet, bad year on the Old Western Trail. From Red River north
and all along was herd after herd waterbound by high water in the
rivers. Our outfit lay over nearly a week on the South Canadian, but
we were not alone, for there were five other herds waiting for the
river to go down. This river had tumbled over her banks for several
days, and the driftwood that was coming down would have made it
dangerous swimming for cattle.

We were expected to arrive in Dodge early in June, but when we reached
the North Fork of the Canadian, we were two weeks behind time.

Old George Carter, the owner of the herd, was growing very impatient
about us, for he had had no word from us after we had crossed Red
River at Doan's crossing. Other cowmen lying around Dodge, who had
herds on the trail, could hear nothing from their men, but in their
experience and confidence in their outfits guessed the cause--it was
water. Our surprise when we came opposite Camp Supply to have Carter
and a stranger ride out to meet us was not to be measured. They had
got impatient waiting, and had taken the mail buckboard to Supply,
making inquiries along the route for the _Hat_ herd, which had not
passed up the trail, so they were assured. Carter was so impatient
that he could not wait, as he had a prospective buyer on his hands,
and the delay in the appearing of the herd was very annoying to him.
Old George was as tickled as a little boy to meet us all.

The cattle were looking as fine as silk. The lay-overs had rested
them. The horses were in good trim, considering the amount of wet
weather we had had. Here and there was a nigger brand, but these
saddle galls were unavoidable when using wet blankets. The cattle were
twos and threes. We had left western Texas with a few over thirty-two
hundred head and were none shy. We could have counted out more, but on
some of them the Hat brand had possibly faded out. We went into a
cosy camp early in the evening. Everything needful was at hand, wood,
water, and grass. Cowmen in those days prided themselves on their
outfits, and Carter was a trifle gone on his men.

With the cattle on hand, drinking was out of the question, so the only
way to show us any regard was to bring us a box of cigars. He must
have brought those cigars from Texas, for they were wrapped in a copy
of the Fort Worth "Gazette." It was a month old and full of news.
Every man in the outfit read and reread it. There were several train
robberies reported in it, but that was common in those days. They had
nominated for Governor "The Little Cavalryman," Sol Ross, and this
paper estimated that his majority would be at least two hundred
thousand. We were all anxious to get home in time to vote for him.

Theodore Baughman was foreman of our outfit. Baugh was a typical
trail-boss. He had learned to take things as they came, play the cards
as they fell, and not fret himself about little things that could not
be helped. If we had been a month behind he would never have thought
to explain the why or wherefore to old man Carter. Several years after
this, when he was scouting for the army, he rode up to a herd over on
the Chisholm trail and asked one of the tail men: "Son, have you
seen anything of about three hundred nigger soldiers?" "No," said the
cowboy. "Well," said Baugh, "I've lost about that many."

That night around camp the smoke was curling upward from those cigars
in clouds. When supper was over and the guards arranged for the night,
story-telling was in order. This cattle-buyer with us lived in Kansas
City and gave us several good ones. He told us of an attempted robbery
of a bank which had occurred a few days before in a western town. As a
prelude to the tale, he gave us the history of the robbers.

"Cow Springs, Kansas," said he, "earned the reputation honestly of
being a hard cow-town. When it became the terminus of one of the many
eastern trails, it was at its worst. The death-rate amongst its city
marshals--always due to a six-shooter in the hands of some man who
never hesitated to use it--made the office not over desirable. The
office was vacated so frequently in this manner that at last no local
man could be found who would have it. Then the city fathers sent to
Texas for a man who had the reputation of being a killer. He kept his
record a vivid green by shooting first and asking questions afterward.

"Well, the first few months he filled the office of marshal he killed
two white men and an Indian, and had the people thoroughly buffaloed.
When the cattle season had ended and winter came on, the little town
grew tame and listless. There was no man to dare him to shoot, and
he longed for other worlds to conquer. He had won his way into public
confidence with his little gun. But this confidence reposed in him was
misplaced, for he proved his own double both in morals and courage.

"To show you the limit of the confidence he enjoyed: the treasurer of
the Cherokee Strip Cattle Association paid rent money to that tribe,
at their capital, fifty thousand dollars quarterly. The capital is
not located on any railroad; so the funds in currency were taken in
regularly by the treasurer, and turned over to the tribal authorities.
This trip was always made with secrecy, and the marshal was taken
along as a trusted guard. It was an extremely dangerous trip to make,
as it was through a country infested with robbers and the capital at
least a hundred miles from the railroad. Strange no one ever attempted
to rob the stage or private conveyance, though this sum was taken in
regularly for several years. The average robber was careful of his
person, and could not be induced to make a target of himself for any
money consideration, where there was danger of a gun in the hands of a
man that would shoot rapidly and carelessly.

"Before the herds began to reach as far north, the marshal and his
deputy gave some excuse and disappeared for a few days, which was
quite common and caused no comment. One fine morning the good people
of the town where the robbery was attempted were thrown into an uproar
by shooting in their bank, just at the opening hour. The robbers were
none other than our trusted marshal, his deputy, and a cow-puncher
who had been led into the deal. When they ordered the officials of
the bank to stand in a row with hands up, they were nonplused at their
refusal to comply. The attacked party unearthed ugly looking guns and
opened fire on the hold-ups instead.

"This proved bad policy, for when the smoke cleared away the cashier,
a very popular man, was found dead, while an assistant was dangerously
wounded. The shooting, however, had aroused the town to the situation,
and men were seen running to and fro with guns. This unexpected
refusal and the consequent shooting spoiled the plans of the robbers,
so that they abandoned the robbery and ran to their horses.

"After mounting they parleyed with each other a moment and seemed
bewildered as to which way they should ride, finally riding south
toward what seemed a broken country. Very few minutes elapsed before
every man who could find a horse was joining the posse that was
forming to pursue them. Before they were out of sight the posse had
started after them. They were well mounted and as determined a set of
men as were ever called upon to meet a similar emergency. They had the
decided advantage of the robbers, as their horses were fresh, and the
men knew every foot of the country.

"The broken country to which the hold-ups headed was a delusion as far
as safety was concerned. They were never for a moment out of sight of
the pursuers, and this broken country ended in a deep coulee. When
the posse saw them enter this they knew that their capture was only a
matter of time. Nature seemed against the robbers, for as they entered
the coulee their horses bogged down in a springy rivulet, and they
were so hard pressed that they hastily dismounted, and sought shelter
in some shrubbery that grew about. The pursuing party, now swollen to
quite a number, had spread out and by this time surrounded the men.
They were seen to take shelter in a clump of wild plum brush, and the
posse closed in on them. Seeing the numbers against them, they came
out on demand and surrendered. Neither the posse nor themselves knew
at this time that the shooting in the bank had killed the cashier.
Less than an hour's time had elapsed between the shooting and the
capture. When the posse reached town on their return, they learned of
the death of the cashier, and the identity of the prisoners was soon
established by citizens who knew the marshal and his deputy. The
latter admitted their identity.